


Henry and Philip

by schmulte



Series: Kissing in the Rain [7]
Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Actor AU!, Angst, Kissing in the Rain, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28606956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmulte/pseuds/schmulte
Summary: Henry confronts what he really wants.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Series: Kissing in the Rain [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091210
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Henry and Philip

Weeks pass, and all he can think about is Alex. He goes back to London, to recoup, to get his head back on straight. He flies eleven hours straight with no problem, but his heart almost stops when he thinks he can see a head of familiar dark curls on his flight. He throws himself into his work, makes charity trips, consults, does interviews. He does every possible PR event he can with a smile on his face. He works up until the wee hours of the morning and works again. And still, all he can think about is Alex. 

When he sees a fan smile, he thinks of Alex's smile. When he's interviewed, he thinks of Alex's voice, asking him the questions. When he goes on dates with the women Philip sets him up with, he imagines they're Alex. At night, when he can bring himself to sleep, he dreams of Alex. His touch, his lips, every freckle, every small scar, every wrinkle on his perfect face. 

It's not supposed to be like this. He left Alex because he was a distraction. He thought leaving would make it better, but it's not, it's worse. Because now he knows what it's like to have Alex, has felt what it is to be in his own personal heaven, and he has ruined it. Now a mild infatuation is a full-blown obsession over something he caught a glimpse of having. He has notifications set up for Alex's social media, checks the news every day in hopes of seeing that beautiful face.

He tells himself he's fine. That it's normal to stay up at all hours of the night scrolling through instagram. To wake up gasping from a dream that felt so real he cries when he realizes it's not. To walk through life like a robot, barely registering what's happening around him, just taking orders. And he's fine with that, really, because he has structure, and doesn't have the time to really truly think about what he's loved and lost. He works on revising a script he's consulting on, and doesn't realizes he's worked through the night until Bea is knocking on his door. 

Reluctantly, he pulls on his robe and opens the door for her. She grimaces when she sees him, and he understands why. He hasn't shaved in days, he probably has dark purple bags under his eyes. He's skinny and gaunt and bone tired. Bea doesn't comment on this at least, just pushes her way inside and locks the door behind her. She has a paper bag in her hand that's emitting a delicious smell, and Henry realizes he hasn't eaten since yesterday. 

"Sit," is all she says, and Henry is too tired to do anything other than obey. Bea sets the bag down on the kitchen table and clears away Henry's mess, papers and pens and highlighters everywhere. She pulls out a chair across from her and crosses her arms over her chest, giving him that disappointed older sister look. "okay. Tell me what happened."

Henry rubs a hand over his face, feels the prickles of his forming beard. "Nothing happened, Bea."

"You're a horrible liar, Henry."

He sighs. "It doesn't matter. I lost sight of my responsibilities, that's all." Bea doesn't say anything, just reaches across the table and holds his hand. Her eyes are prompting, and Henry is feeling too miserable to resist, and he really, really needs to talk to someone, no matter how much he tells himself he doesn't. "I...I loved someone. For quite some time, actually. And I thought it was fine, because he would never feel the same, and I could go on pining in silence forever. But we...something...something changed, and. We were starting to get somewhere, and it was all too real, and I went and mucked it up. And I really don't know what to do, because I ended things before they really began, but I did it for a reason, so I could keep up the legacy. And I don't even think he'd want me back even if I could try, but I. I miss him so much." He's been sobbing for a while now, and now that he's done talking they wrack his body. He hiccups and gasps and can taste the snot dripping from his nose, and it all feels so hopeless and miserable. The only grounding he has is Bea's tight squeeze on his hand.

She waits patiently for him to cry himself out. "I know you feel a responsibility to dad, but he wouldn't want you to be miserable. And you being yourself won't hurt his legacy."

"Philip seems to think otherwise."

"Fuck Philip, he's a prick. He doesn't have any power over you. You don't owe him your happiness, Henry. You don't owe him your life." 

He sniffs. "I don't know what to do, Bea. I was fine before, I was content with doing what I was told. But Alex..."

"I know." She kisses the top of his head as she stands, and Henry has never felt smaller. "You need to seriously think about what you want. I'll support you no matter what, little brother." She ruffles his hair. "There's fresh croissants in the bag, and I want you to eat at least one today. Take care of yourself, okay?" And then she's out the door, and Henry feels more confused than ever.

He doesn't have a moment of clarity until his meeting with Philip the next week. He's zoned out, half-listening to his brother go on and on about some movie he wants Henry to be in, and he thinks about Bea's words. "think about what you want." And he pictures himself here, in this room, listening to Philip for the rest of his life. Getting married, having two and a half kids and a white picket fence. It sounds awful. He thinks about the characters he's played. Achilles and Darcy and Jo- they'd never let themselves be pushed around like this. And Alex. Alex wouldn't take this lying down. He's far braver than Henry has ever been. 

"Henry?" Philip's voice cuts through the mental fog. "Are you listening to me?" Henry stands from the table and watches his brother's face twist in confusion. 

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

He swallows. "I'm not doing this anymore. I'm going back to America, and I'm going to do what I want with my life."

"What?" Philip scoffs. "You're going to come out, is that it? You will ruin not only yourself, but this family, everything dad worked for--"

"Dad didn't work as hard as he did for me to hide who I am. And I'm sick of you hanging his legacy over me."

Philip raises an eyebrow. "Is this about that American actor? The one you've been doing those silly little films with?"

"Don't bring him into this--"

"You're willing to throw away your family for some boy toy?"

"No. I'm doing this for me. It just took meeting Alex to realize what I wanted." 

He books the first flight back to Hollywood before Philip can get out another word. The image of Philip's shocked face as he walked out the door stays in his head, and for the first time in weeks, Henry smiles.


End file.
